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PS 635 

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C5617 



Co - ?i Granny of the Hills 

A HOME MISSIONARY PLAY 

By 
BELLE BROWN CLOKEY 



This little play is dedicated to Miss Frances Baehler 
of Dubuque, Iowa, who was the inspiration of the play, 
and to the young people of Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Iowa, 
who have been the inspiration of the writer 



Missionary Education Movement 

of the United States and Canada 

156 Fifth Avenue, New York 



CHARACTERS 

GRA X NY WOODHALL. 

Danny, her grandson. 
Lizzie. Danny's playmate. 
President Matthews. 
Miss Black, a teacher. 
Miss Nelson, vocal teacher. 

Senior Class of Cumberland Collegiate Institute 
i ) axiel woodhall. 

EX.IZABETH McDONAl I). 

Robert Baldridge. 
Esther Holmes. 
Rebecca Stewart. 
Miriam Hoover. 
Ruth McConnell. 
Rachel McBride. 
Janet Stevenson. 
Howard Harper. 
Charles Bradley. 
John Mason. 
Other names can be added at zvill.) 
Lower Classmen. 
Manager of Ball Team. 
Captain of Bali. Team. 



SYNOPSIS 

Part I: Among the pines near Granny's cabin. Cranny reaches a decision and 
bravely makes her sacrifice. 

Part II; Ten years later. A rustic corner of a College Campus. Granny's ex- 
ample leads another life out along the pathway of renunciation. 

Part III: One week later. Athletic field, College Campus. Granny witnesses a 
ball game for the first tune, and adds greatly to the interest of the occasion. 

Part IV: One day later. Commencement exercises held on College Campus. 
Cranny receives her reward. 



COSTUMKS 

Granny should wear- a faded calico dress and sunbonnet (a black slat sun- 
bonnet if possible) when she appears in Part I, but the sunbonnet should be laid 
aside very soon, in order that she can be more clearly heard. 

In Part III, she should wear an old-fashioned black dress and bonnet and a 
black apron; and in Part IV, a white lace cap and neckerchief /with the same old- 

CI.D 4 2456 ^^ 

TMP92-008863 

Copyright, 1915, by Missionary Education Movement or the Untied States and Canada 



x ft ly J COSTUMES AND DIRECTIONS 

^\ 
fashioned dress. Her hair should be powdered some in Part I, and be made very 
white in Part 1Y. 

Danny should wear old trousers, a faded waist, an old broad-brimmed straw 
hat and badly worn, heavy shoes, if he does not go in his bare feet. The coat he 
puts on before leaving should be ragged and several sizes too small. 

Lizzie should wear a faded apron, dress, and sunbonnet, but her bonnet should 
Minn be laid aside or allowed to hang around her neck. 

If possible, Danny and Lizzie should be of the same type as the grown-up 
Daniel and Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth should wear a simple Inn pretty and graceful white gown in 
Part II. This can be covered by a summer coat of some kind in Part HI. and 
shown again in Part IV. 

The President and members of the graduating cla>^ should wear college caps 
and gowns in Part IV, if possible, although this is not a necessity. In Part III 
summer gowns and hats should be worn. 



DIRECTIONS 

As this play is intended for use in churches, the arrangements of the platform 
fur it have been made most simple. 

A curtain can lie used to advantage, but is by no means a necessity. 

Screens placed so as to protect the players before they come on and after the) 
leave the platform will answer every purpose. 

Granny's entrance and exit are easily planned for in Part I; Miss Black can 
come in with her books and papers and take her place at the table in Part II, and 
Elizabeth can leave as indicated at the close of the Part. 

The young people can gather for the ball game as they would for an ordinary 
game, and make their way out in the midst of the excitement that follows it, and 
the graduating class can march in, led by the President, and leave in an informal 
manner at the close of the scene. 

Two young men, carefully trained, can very quickly make the slight changes in 
the setting that dvt: necessary for the different Parts. 

For convenience sake all the scenes are placed out of -doors, even the gradua- 
tion exercises being held on the campus, as is often done where there is no large 
auditorium. 

The out-of-doors setting can easily be secured by the Use of branches of trees 
vines, ferns, and potted shrubs, and where pine trees can be secured the effect is 
particularly good. 

Part I. An old fence with hollyhocks or any old-fashioned dower growing 
behind it makes a good background, and the rather Ion- conversation between 
Granny and Danny can be relieved of all awkwardness by having Granny seated 
on an old wash-bench and Danny on a low sawhorse or stump with one foot 
resting on a small log. His make believe gun will give him something to do with 
his hands in the early part of the scene, but should be laid aside as he becomes 
more absorbed in the conversation. 

Part II. A few rustic seats and a small table are all that are necessary for tin's 
scene, but a summer house covered with vines and (lowers is ideal. 



4 DIRFXTIONS 

Part III. This Part was introduced just for fun, and can be omitted without 
destroying the symmetry of the play. When it is used, the assistance of an enthusi- 
astic "baseball fan" will be needed more than that of an elocution teacher. De- 
tailed instructions cannot be given, but the aim should be to make it so real that the 
audience will unconsciously turn, expecting to see the ball. The performers should 
be placed so that they will face the side of the audience room, great care being 
taken to have all in the front row where they can be seen by the entire audience. 
If Robert uses a lower chair than Granny, it will give her a better chance to be 
seen and heard. 

College colors should be much in evidence, and peanuts will give those in 
the back rows something to do. They should seem to be laughing and talking as 
they would at any game, but great care must be taken never to allow the confusion 
to drown out the conversation which is taking place on the front row. 

The first and second rows can be seated on benches ; the third row can sit on 
the back of a bench, and a fourth row stand on a bench. This will give something 
of a grand stand effect. 

Rushing Danny in at the close of the game on the shoulders of the manager 
and captain of the ball team, followed by the other members of the team, can easily 
be omitted if not convenient, but in lecture-rooms, where plans can be made to have 
a great cry raised at the rear of the room and Danny rushed up the aisle to the 
platform by a shouting crowd, the surprise and enthusiasm of it are most effective. 

Part IV. The benches or chairs used for the ball game can quickly be placed 
in position for the graduation exercises, and the diplomas can be placed on a stand 
near the President's chair. 

As many singers as possible should be secured for the senior class for the 
purpose of making the class song a success. One or more can take the soprano 
obligato, and all the others should sing the melody in unison. 

College gowns add greatly to the effectiveness of the song. 

Chinese lanterns and college pennants can be used effectively to brighten 
up this scene. 

Students of expression will prefer to give their own interpretation of the lines, 
but those less experienced will appreciate the effort that has been made to give 
rather minute details of the first presentation of the play as given under the 
direction of the writer. 

While just as many young people can take part in this play as desire to do so, 
it requires only six adults and two children who have any special talent as readers, 
and its success depends entirely upon how seriously these few take up their work. 
When such assistance is hard to secure, the part assigned to Robert Baldridge can, 
with a few changes, be taken either by Miss Black or Elizabeth. Nearly all the 
rehearsals can be held with only a few present, as the rooters at the ball game do 
not need to attend more than one rehearsal. 

The first and second parts should be rehearsed as privately as possible, for 
they can never be perfected in the midst of the confusion peculiar to the prepara- 
tion of amateur plays. 

The writer wishes to acknowledge her indebtedness to Horace Kephart, 
author of Our Southern Highlanders, and to Alice M. Guernsey, author of Under 
Our Flag. 



OEC \0ists 



GRANNY OF THE HILLS 



PART I 

Scene: Out of doors in front of Granny's cabin. Granny comes in from one 
side of the platform and stands for a few moments, looking anxiously 
behind the scenes on the other side. 

Granny: Danny, Danny! You come hyur. (Short pause.) Danny Wood- 
hall, you come hyur this minute, and be quick about it. 

Danny: (Behind the scenes.) I'm comin' d'reckly, Granny. What d' ye 
want? 

Granny: Yon run along home, Lizzie. I think I heerd yer maw a-callin' ye 
a spell ago. 

Danny: (Behind the scenes.) Good-by. Lizzie. We'll play that game again 
to-morrer. 

Lizzie: (Behind the scenes.) Gcod-by, Danny. I seen yer face last. 
{Enter Danny carrying a stick whittled to look like a gun.) 

Danny: Here L be. Granny. What kin I do fer ye? 

Granny: Sit down thar somewhars, Danny. We're goin' ter set out hyur in 
the sunshine whar we kin look away out over the mountains yonder, an' we're goin' 
ter hev a talk, jes' ye an' yer Granny. 

Danny: Why. what about, Granny? 

Granny: Wa-al, Danny. I've sumthin' ter tell ye. But afore I begin, jes' 
tell me what you hev been a-doin' all mornin'. 

Danny: Oh! Me an' Lizzie hev been a-playin'. She's been a lettin' on she 
had a whisky-still hid down the mountainside somewhars, an' I hev been the 
revenuer a-huntin' ter it. I war gittin' mighty clos' ter it, when I heerd ye a-callin'. 
an' Lizzie, she war a (He raises his gun as if to shoot.) poppin' a gun at me 
from behint a tree. 

Granny: That's jes" what I was afeard of. Danny! I've been a-watchin' ye. 
an' it hev settled yer old granny's mind at last. 1 can't let ye grow up lak this 
yere, thet's plumb sartin. Danny, yer granny hev got ter send ye away some- 
whars. 

Danny: Send me away. Granny! What fer, I'd lak ter know? 

Granny: You'll be as good-fer-nothin' as yer dad ef ye don't hev nothin' 
better ter do than ter play games lak thet thar whisky-still, an' yer mought as 
well be dead this minute as ter grow up lak yer dad. 

Danny. Now, Granny, what is the matter with me anyways? Ef ye don't 
care nothin' 'bout me. why don't ye jes' sell me off lak ye did the mule las' week? 

Granny: Now, don't ye go to comparin' yerself to no mule — ye whose great 
great grandad Woodhall fought all through the war o' the Revolution, an' yer 
grandad died a-fightin'. They war wuth somewhat, they war. But yer dad, he 
wa'n't wuth nothin' 'tall, so fer as I could ever see, an', O Danny, if ye grow up 
lak him, it'll jes kill yer obi granny. 



6 GRANNY OF THE HILLS 

Danny: If them old fightin' grandads war wuth so much, why didn't they 
leave sumthin' better ter show fer it than thet thar old cabin? 

Granny: I jes' don't rightly know, Danny. It warn't nothin' ag'in them 
I'd hev ye know. I reckon they war jes unlucky. I war born in this kintry, an' 
ain't never been out o' it. but my granny uster tell me 'bout how, when she war a 
little gai, they lived way off yon side o' the mountains somewhars, an' there war 
lovely green medders an' a purty little creek a-windin' along under the wilier trees, 
an' they hed nice houses, all white an' clean lookin', an' there war a meetin'-house 
an' a school whar they taught them readin' an' ritin'. The Woodhalls an' the 
Stocktons lived on joinin' places. 

Danny: Well, why didn't they stay thar, Granny? Thet's what I'd lak ter 
know. 

Granny: She didn't never jes' know, Danny, but somehow things begun 
ter go wrong, an' bimeby thar come a day when all the women war a-cryin' an' 
the men folks lookin' mighty glum, an' they all come away from that purty kintry 
an' dumb away up in these hyur mountains and built these little eld log cabins. 
They tried moughty hard ter mek a livin' with ax an' rifle an' by grubbing away at 
these hyur old hills, but they jes' got plum discouraged, Danny. I ricolleck that 
ole Gran'sir Stockton adopted a rheumatiz an' kep' it till he died. 

Yer Grandad Woodhall, him as ye war named a'ter, Danny, he war a likely 
lad. Him an' me uster play tergether, jes' lak you an' Lizzie, an' when I war 'bout 
fifteen year old I married him an' come over hyur ter live. Things mought hev 
been dif'runt ef he'd lived. 

Danny: Tell me 'bout him, Granny; what happened him? 

Granny: Wa-al, Danny, when word come from over yon side the mountains 
thet there war fightin' goin' on somewhars, I 'low he couldn't help it no how, he 
jes' hed ter go, Danny. No kintry ain't never hed no better fighters nowhars than 
our men hyur in the mountains, an' he jes' took his rifle-gun an' his ridin' critter 
an' went away one day. I stood right hyur with my little one in my arms an' 
watched him go out o' sight over yon hill — an' he never come back, Danny ; he 
never come back. 

Danny: O Granny! What could ye do then jes' by yerself ? 

Granny: Oh, I jes' scrumpiged 'long the best I could till yer paw growed up, 
an' then he found a way ter mek a livin' that jes' 'bout broke my heart. 

Danny: (Leaning over and taking Granny by the arm.) What did he do, 
Granny? I've alius wanted ter know. 

Granny : He run a still, Danny. 

Danny: (Starting back in surprise.) O Granny! Not thet! 

Granny: Ya-as, Danny. He tuk up with sech a sorry lot o' fellars an' got so 
moughty techerous that I couldn't do nothing fer him no how, an' bimeby I 
knowed he war runnin' a still. I'm glad yer maw died 'fore she knowed 'bout it. 
She war a nice little woman, yer maw war. She died the week a'ter ye war born. 
Thar warn't nobudy to tek keer on her but yer granny, an' it jes' seemed as ef I 
couldn't never git her ter chirk up any more a'ter thet. Sometimes I hev thought 
she knowed 'bout the still, an' didn't keer whether she lived or died. 

Danny*: (Anxiously.) An' what become o' my paw an' the still, Granny? 

Granny: Ye war jes' three year old when yer paw got killed a defyin' o' the 
revenuer. Danny, an' now mebbe ye kin see why yer granny don't lak ter see ye 
playin' them kind o' games — ye an' Lizzie. 

Danny : Oh, yes ! I see now. Granny. 



PART I 7 

Granny : I'm not goin' ter let ye stay hyur an' grow up lak people hyur- 
abouts, not ef I kin help it. 

Danny: {Anxiously.) But what kin a little fellar lak me do, Granny? I 
hain't got nowhars ter go. 

Granny: Ya-as ye hev, Danny. Thet thar is what I've got ter tell ye. 
Thar be a place fer jes' sech boys as ye. They l'arn them farmin' an' they l'arn 
them outen books, too. 

Danny : Who tole ye 'bout it ? 

Granny: I jes' heerd tell o' it las' week. A man come by a-ridin' on horse- 
back an' he come in hyur fer a drink. I seed he war not from hyurabouts, so I 
thought, "Now, Granny, hyur's yer chance," an' I jes' ask 'im ef he knowed of 
any place whar a poor boy could go ter be l'arned book l'arnin'. 

Danny: (Excitedly.) An' what did he say, Granny? 

Granny: He sed ya-as, thar be jes' sech a school whar he come from. Then 
I tole him 'bout ye, Danny, an' said I knowed ye could l'arn a lot ef ye only hed a 
chance. 

Danny: Do ye think I could, Granny? Are ye plumb sure? 

Granny : Ya-as, I be, Danny. Jes' you wait hyur till I go git somethin' ter 
show ye! (She hurries beliind the scenes.) 

Danny: (Thoughtfully.) What d' ye reckon little Lizzie 'ud do ef I went 
away anywhars. She ain't never played nothin' with nobody but jes' me ever 
sence she war born. It don't jes' 'pear as ef I ever could leave her an' Granny to go 
nowhars. 

(Granny returns carrying a roll ycllozv until age and soiled.) 

Granny: Now, what do ye s'pose this hyur mought be, Danny? 

Danny: (Looking it ever curiously.) It don't pear lak nothin' much ter me, 
Granny. What be it? (They sit down on the wash-bench together.) 

Granny : It be er 'ploma, Danny. Ye git 'em for goin' ter school an' 
Parnin' a lot. This yere b'longed to my ole Gran'sir Stockton. He uster take me 
on his knee an' show it ter me, an' he said I'd gotter hev one when I growed up, 
even ef I war only a gal an' gals warn't s'posed ter know as much as boys. Yer 
granny hain't never hed no chance, Danny, but ye be a-goin' ter hev yourn ef so 
be thet 3 r er granny kin give it ter ye. 

Thet thar man said he would be a-comin' back along o' here in a week — that's 
ter-day, Danny— an' ef I wanted ter send ye ter school, he'd take ye long o' him 
•on 'is horse. 

Danny: Ter-day, Granny! Ye ain't goin' ter send me away ter-day, be ye? 

Granny: Ya-as, I be, Danny. Ev'ry day since thet man come, I hev been 
a-thinkin' an' a-thinkin' till I c'u'dn't sleep ner eat. Some days it hes jes' seemed 
thet I c'u'dn't never let ye go, Danny; but I sold the mule anyways, ter hev the 
money ter start ye, ef I ever got my mind made up ter let ye go along o' the man. 
Ye're all I've got in the world, Danny, an' it takes the heart right out o' me to 
think o' livin' on here 'thout ye; but when I seen ye an' Lizzie a-poppin' guns at 
each other from behint the trees,, thet settled my mind. Ye hev got ter go whar 
they kin teach ye sumthin' better ter do than thet. 

Danny: But I don't want ter go an' leave ye. Granny. It jes' seems as ef 
I'd like ter stay hyur always — jes' you an' me an' Lizzie. 

Granny: But didn't I tell ye my mind war made up? Ye hev got ter go, ef 
T hev ter tek a stick ter ye. Yer granny ain't so old yet but what she kin drive 



8 GRANNY OF THE HILLS 

ye often the place ef it's fcr yer own good. (She rises hurriedly and points 
toward the hills in the distance.) Thar he comes now, I've heen a-watchin' fer 'im. 
(Danny goes toward the entrance, looking anxiously out, and 
turns suddenly, and running to his granny, throws himself 
in her arms. If the boy chosen for the part objects to this, 
it can be omitted, as the mountaineers are very slow to' dis- 
play any emotion.) 

Danny: O Granny, hev I got ter go? 

Granny: Ya-as, Danny, ye hev got ter go. (They cling to each other a few 
moments.) Now let go o' your granny an' hurry 'round. Ye ain't got much ter 
tek with ye, an' I've got it all done up in a bag inside the cabin door. Go git it. 
Danny. An' wash yer face an' put on yer coat. {She sits down on the wash- 
bench and buries her face in Iter hands until he returns. lie brings her the bag. 
and she rises.) In hyur, ye'll find the money I got fer the mule, an' when ye hev 
1'arned up the mule there'll be sweet pertaters ter sell. Oh, I guess yer granny'll 
find some way ter git along an' keep ye in school. An' then all the time, Danny, I'll 
be a-hopin' an' a-hopin\ Ye see, I ain't tole ye all I hev in iny heart. I don't 
jes' rightly know how ter tell it, but, Danny, (In lower tones, but distinct.) in 
thet thar meetin'-house my granny tole me about, she heerd things she never 
f ergot, an' she use' ter try ter larn them ter me. I jes' don't rikolleck them rightly, 
but they war good things ter know, an' I want ye ter hear 'em, an' then come home 
an' tell me all 'bout 'em. jes' as soon as ever ye kin. 

Danny: (Earnestly.) I will, Granny. I'll come back jes' as soon as ever 
they'll let me, an' tell ye everything I know. 

Granny: (Cheerfully.) Thar now, thet'll keep me chirked up right along, 
jes' a-thinkin' 'bout it. Thar 'e is now, waitin' fer ye. I'll help put ye up behint 
him on the horse. (Putting her hands on his shoulders, looking into his face 
and speaking with great earnestness.) It's fer yer own good I'm sendin' ye away. 
Don't ye ever fergit thet, Danny. 

Danny: (Earnestly.) I won't, Granny, an' jes' as long as ever I live I won't 
never fergit ye. 

(Granny goes out with him, and in a few moments returns, 
slowly making her way to the center of the stage as she watches 
them out of sight.) 

Granny: (Pointing in the direction that they have gone.) Thar he goes, 
cl'ar outen my sight — ■ (Hands clasped on her breast.) my little Danny. (Walking 
to and fro.) Ever sence the day he war born I've loved him and 'tended him the 
best I knowed how. (Pausing.) But I hed ter let him go. Ya-as, I hed ter let 
him go. (Turning to audience.) An' I know jes' what I'm a-doin'. Jes' lak my 
man Danny (Pointing in the direction Danny went.) so long ago, I'm mebbe 
lettin' him go fer good. He's a good boy. Danny is, an' he thinks a heap o' his 
granny, but bimeby, when he gits book l'arnin', he may fergit — ya-as, I know 
(Lowering her voice.) he may be ershamed o' his old ign'rant granny. Nobudy 
c'u'dn't never blame him, but (Looking tip with hands clasped.) O God! I've 
heerd 'lx mt ye. I don't know much, but I know I need ye now. Thar war a 
verse my granny 1'arned me onct 'bout ''Suffer the little children ter come unto 
me." an' (Pointing in the direction that Danny went.) I hev let Danny go whar 
he'll l'arn about ye, an", oh, don't let him fergit ter come back an' tell his old 
granny all 'bout it. 



PART I 9 

(Enter Lizzie, out of breath from running, and grasps Granny 
impetuously by the arm.) 

Lizzie: O Granny! whar hev Danny gone ter? 

Granny: Wa-al new, little Lizzie, what do ye know 'bout him anyways, I'd 
lak ter know? 

Lizzie: (Breathlessly.) Why, I seen 'im goin' (Pointing in the direction 
Danny had gone.) — 'long o' a man — on a horse — past our cabin. I called ter 'im, 
but he never answered or looked my way. Then I run a'ter 'im, hollerin' with all 
my might, but he jes' looked back onct, an' then — I seen (Her voice breaks.) he 
war a-cryin". (Granny turns away to hide her emotion, and Lizzie pulls at her 
sleeve to get her attention.) What made Danny cry, Granny, an' whar war he 
a-goin'? (Stamping her foot and shaking Granny by the arm.) Ain't ye ever 
goin' ter tell me? 

Granny: Ya-as, I be, ef ye ever give me any kind o' a chance. Danny hev 
gone away ter school, so he hev. 

Lizzie: Gone away ter school? Whar ter? 

Granny: Down the mountains ter a school whar they l'arn them how ter 
wurk an' how ter read outen books — a farm school, they call it. 

Lizzie: Well, when's he comin' back? 

Granny: I don't know nothin' 'bout thet. All I know be thet he am gone 
an' thet I sent 'im. 

(She sits down on the wash-bench.) 

Lizzie: (Stamping her foot.) Granny Woodhall. do ye mean ter say thet 
ye made him go along o thet man, an' him a-cryin'? (Shaking her fist at Granny.) 
I jes' hate ye fer a-doin' it, so I do. (Stamping her foot on "never/' "ever," "I," 
and lire.") I'll never cum back hyur again as long as ever T live, with Danny 
gone. Oh. what kin I ever do 'thout Danny? 

(She dro/'s down on the sawlwrse or stool and buries her head in 
her apron, sobbing.) 

Granny: (Wiping her eyes on her apron.) Now don't tek on so, Lizzie. 
(Patting her on the head.) Chirk up now an' let me tell ye all 'bout it. I know 
how ye an' Danny hev played tergether, ever sence ye could walk. Granny is sorry 
fer ye, but 1 hed ter send Danny ter school, when I hed a chance. Come, come, 
now (Raising her head and smoothing back her hair.) stop yer cryin' ; mebbe thar 
be a school fer gals somewhars, an' ye kin go, too. Danny'll find out, an* then 
he'll tell us all "bout it. 

Lizzie: (Speaking impatiently.) Lots o' chance I'll ever hev ter go ter 
school. My stepfather, lie's pesterin' maw ev'ry day ter let me go an' work up in 
them cotton-mills. Maw she says she'd rather see me dead than shut up in them 
old mills ; but goin' ter school — even maw w'u'dn't ever think o' Iettin' me do a 
thing lak thet. (She again buries her head in her Inp.) 

Granny: Never mind, little gal. Ye may get yer chance some day, an' 
Granny'll help ye, ef she kin. Now run along home, or they'll be a-scoldin' ye. 

Lizzie: (Speaking slozvly and drooping as if all the life had gone out of her.) 
O Granny, I don't feel as ef I could ever run again. I jes' feel as ef somethin' 
— hed bin taken outen me — an' thar warn't nothin' left ter run with. 

Granny: I know, Lizzie. I know jes' 'bout how ye feel. Come over often 
ter see old granny. I'll need ye more'n ye know. Now run along home, thet's a 
good gal. (Exit Lizzie, giving a last sniffle and wiping her tiose on her sleeve. 



10 GRANNY OF THE HILLS 

Granny rising.) Wa-al now, it's good ter know thet somebudy cares, even ef it's 
only a little gal — jes' little Lizzie. 

I wonder ef them old hills an' pine trees'll know an' care thet Granny's lone- 
some. Another verse I l'arned onct war, "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills 
from whence cometh my help," an' all these years I've been a-lookin' an' a-lookin' r 
an' they ain't never failed me yet. 

I reckon I kin git 'long all right ef I go on a-workin' an a-workin' an' keep 
a-thinkin' an' a-thinkin' thet God knows an' God cares an' that he'll never let my 
Danny fergit his old Granny of the Hills. 

INTERMISSION 



PART II 

Scene: A rustic corner of the college campus. Miss Black, a teacher, is 
seated on a rustic bench with a small table in front of her covered with 
books and papers. 

{Enter Elizabeth McDonald.) 

Elizabeth : Miss Black, Marian told me to come to you here on my way 
home from Mrs. Bartlett's tea. Is there anything I can do for you? 

Miss Black : 1 won't keep you more than a few moments, Elizabeth. Just sit 
down, my dear, I have a very important letter that I must read to you before I 
answer it. {She finds the letter among her papers.) 

My dear Miss Black: 

The young woman who has been my companion and private secretary for years will soon 
be married, and I am seeking some one who will take her place. 

I have been interested for a long time in the remarkable development of one of the 
members of the senior class at the Institute — Miss Elizabeth McDonald. Can you not 
persuade her to come to me as soon as] the commencement exercises are over? I am sure 
1 should find her a most delightful companion. 

Yours sincerely, 

Roberta M. Van Cleve. 

1 have no desire whatever to try to persuade you to accept this position, Eliza- 
beth, but I felt that I must present the matter to you and allow your own heart 
to decide the question. 

Elizabeth : Oh, thank you so much, Miss Black, but I do not believe I could 
consider it. 

Miss Black: May I ask why? It cannot help but appeal to any one so very 
well fitted for it. 

Elizabeth: Have you time to allow me to explain fully? I have often 
thought I should love to talk to you about my plans. 

Miss Black: Certainly, my dear, my papers for examinations are almost 
finished, and we may not have another chance for a talk. Please feel free to tell 
me everything that is in your heart. 

Elizabeth : Oh, thank you. Miss Black. You know, don't you, that my home 
is in a little log cabin away up in Morgan's Cove. The cabin nearest ours is 
where Danny Woodhall's grandmother lives. Danny and I began playing together 
as soon as I could walk, and we never knew what it was to get along without each 
other until he started to the Farm School. 

I fairly stormed at his grandmother for allowing him to go, and then went 
home and cried mvself almost sick. 



PART II 11 

Miss Black : Why, you poor child. 

Elizabeth : As soon as he heard of the Burton Industrial School for Girls, he 
decided that something must be done to get me entered there. My parents had no 
money to send me, and they were not interested. It all seemed very hopeless, but 
Danny never stopped working and planning until the way opened for me to enter 
the school, and then Granny persuaded my mother and stepfather to allow me to 
come. 

Now, Danny and I are both through school, and Danny is going into definite 
Christian work. Some day he hopes to be able to continue his studies and be- 
come a Christian minister. 

Miss Black: Oh! does he, really? I am delighted to hear it. 

Elizabeth : Yes, and by and by, when he is ready for his real life-work and a 
home — well, Miss Black, he says that a irry important position will be waiting for 
me then! Somehow we feel as if we couldn't ever quite learn how to get along 
without each other. 

Miss Black: (Clasping Elizabeth's hand in both of hers.) I congratulate 
you with all my heart. Mr. Woodhall is certainly a splendid, earnest, lovable 
young fellow. But of course this need not interfere with your accepting this 
position with Mrs. Van Cleve for the next few years, if you wish to do so. I 
must admit it would be a great development to you. 

Elizabeth : I am sure it would, but I have set my heart on going back to 
Morgan's Cove for those few years. 

Miss Black: To Morgan's Cove! Your old home? 

Elizabeth : Yes, my dear old mountain home. Granny and I talked it all 
over during my last vacation. If a public school is started in that neighborhood 
I will apply for the position of teacher, and if not, I will gather the children into 
Granny's cabin and teach them there. Just think of all that I can teach them 
during my years of waiting. 

Then I can visit in the homes and try to keep parents from sending those poor 
little children into the cotton-mills. My stepfather wanted to send me once, but 
my mother would never consent to that. I visited a factory last summer, and I 
never saw anything in my life as pathetic as the dull, tired faces of those little 
factory slaves. After they have worked in the mills a year they forget how to 
laugh or play; they lose all desire for the out-of-doors, and are just like little 
unthinking machines. It will be something if I can save even one little child from 
a life like that. 

Miss Black: Yes, Elizabeth, that would be a life-work in itself. 

Elizabeth : Then on Sabbath we can have a Sabbath-school and some kind 
of a church service. 

Oh, I do want all those dear old friends of mine to be as happy as I have 
been since I learned the beautiful things in God's Book. 

Then. (Leaning closer to Miss Black.) too, I want to teach my own mother to 
read. It is a lonely life she lives, and if I could only teach her to read the gospel 
story for herself, it would seem like a new world to her. 

Miss Black: (Putting her arm around Elisabeth.) My dear child, I under- 
stand fully why Mrs. Van Cleve's offer can have no attraction for you. You have 
chosen the pathway of self-sacrifice, and already a joy which is never found in the 
pathway of pleasure is filling your heart, and (Very earnestly.) remember, my 
dear, (Drawing her close to her.) that there was One long ago who followed the 
pathway of duty, even though it led him to a hilltop and to a cross. 



12 GRANNY OF THE HILLS 

(A slow gesture reaching out and upward, beginning on the zvord 
"followed," reaching higher on the zvord "hilltop"' and pointing 
still higher on the zvord "cross" will be effective. The eyes of 
both should follozv the gesture closely, and at the zvord "cross" 
Elisabeth should bow her head and there should be a pause 
before the tenseness of the moment is broken by Miss Black's 
return to things practical.) 

Thank you for telling me all about it. May I come and visit you and Mrs. 
Woodhall and your little school some time? 

Elizabeth: Oh, Miss Black, if you only would! And that reminds me of 
one thing more I wanted to talk to you about. Danny is determined to have his 
grandmother come to the commencement exercises next week. He's so devoted to 
her that he can't realize how out' of place she will seem among the well-dressed 
people who will be there. I can just see how queer she will look in her old black 
bonnet and the black dress she has worn for good ever since I can remember. 

She never gets anything for herself because she lias been saving every penny 
for Danny's education. 

Do you think people will laugh at her and make her sorry she came? She 
didn't want to come, but Danny insisted, and she would do anything for him. 

Miss Black: Don't worry about that, Elizabeth, I'll talk to the girls about 
it, and we will all join in giving Granny the best time of her life. 

(Behind the scenes a group of girls are heard singing Rig-a- 
jig-jig an d away we go" or any other college song.) 

There come some of the girls now. If they are going for a walk I believe I'll 
go with them. I may not have as good a chance to talk to them again. 

Rebecca Stewart: (Behind the scenes.) Oh, girls! there are Miss Black 
and Elizabeth. Let's ask them to go with us. (Enter the girls led by Rebecca.) 
Oh, Miss Black, we're going out for one more tramp across the hills. Can't you 
and Elizabeth come with us? 

Miss Black: I shall be delighted to go, Rebecca. (Aside to Elizabeth, as she 
gathers up the papers.) This will give me just the opportunity I want. 
Don't you fear for the result. The girls al! think too much of Danny to make 
fun of his grandmother. (To the other girls.) I'm ready now. Which direction 
are you going? 

Rebecca Stewart: Won't you come, too, Elizabeth? 

Elizabeth : No, I can't to-day. Thank you, just the same. 

(The girls pass out singing. By passing through rooms at the 
rear of the platform, or by allowing the voices to die azuay 
almost to a whisper, the effect can be secured of their sing- 
ing until they pass out of hearing.) 

Elizabeth: (Who has been seated at the rustic stand, listening to the sing- 
ing.) I wonder if those girls, wandering down the rhododendron path, are just 
as happy and care-free as they seem to be? 

I wish I could feel as they do, but I don't see how any senior can face com- 
mencement week without being sobered by it. 

Commencement week! I suppose they call it that because it is then that we 
really begin to live. 



PART II 13 

After years of getting ready, we begin to do tiling-, and what to do is the 
question. As Danny says, we have to decide whether we're going to make a living 
or to make a life. 

1 never thought it would be hard for me to decide. Ever since my way 
opened to come to school, I've planned to spend my life trying to give othe; girls 
their chance. How else could 1 ever expect to show my gratitude? 

But now — (She rises and speaks impatiently.) Oh, I wish I had never been 
offered that position with Mrs. Van Cleve ! (Throwing herself dozen on another 
rustic bench.) Don't I know just exactly what it would mean? Haven't I seen 
her and her companion riding by day after day in her limousine, and thought how 
wonderful it must he to be able to live that way? They have traveled together all 
over this country and Europe. Now / have been offered three years of life like 
that, and, oh, (Rising and clasping Iter hands.) how I should love it! (Walking 
over to bench behind table and resting her hands on it.) I am only human! I 
wonder if I could endure it. when the long, lonely days of winter settled down and 
shut me up in that desolate cove. Wouldn't it be simply unbearable to think of all 
f might have been enjoying- in some luxurious hotel in the midst of birds ana 
flowers and sunshine? (Pause.) Oh, what shall I do? (She drops down on the 
bench behind the table and bozvs her head on her folded arms. Looking up after 
a short pause.) Oh, it is the old battle, almost as, old as the hills themselves, be- 
tween love of self and love of one's neighbor. 

I do love my people, and if I do not teach them, who will? There are plenty 
of girls who will be glad to be Mrs. Van Cleve's companion, but who else will go 
into Morgan's Cove and carry out Granny's cherished plan of having a school in 
her little cabin ? 

Dear old Granny ! She's never been afraid of the hard things, and that 
blessed old boy, Danny, is just like her. I wonder what he would think if he 
knew that his little Lizzie was almost ready to wish she cculd go off and have a 
good time, no matter what becomes of the rest of the world. ( The first chords of 
"Absent." by John M\ctcalf. are played behind the scenes.) Listen! It is Miss 
Nelson in the music room. How I love to hear her sing. 

("Absent," by John W. Mctcaif. to which the following words have been set, 
is published by Arthur 'P. Schmidt, n West Thirty-sixth Street. New York, for 
high, medium, or low voice, and it can be secured through any music dealer. The 
soloist should make a very careful study of the expression and the very distinct 
rendering of the words.) 

If to the hungry thou hast given bread, 

(Elizabeth leaning back to enjoy the music.) 
And to the poor hast words of kindness said. 

(Leaning forward zvith head on tier hand and listening in- 
tently.) 
And into peace hast wandering footsteps led, 

(Head bowed in thought and hands clasped on the table.) 
Hear Jesus saying, "Ye did it unto Me." 

(Looking upward during the words, "Ye did it unto Me.") 

If Christlike pity thou hast never known. 

(Leaning forzvard and looking dozen.) 
And to the needy hast no kindness shown. 

(Head resting on hand.) 



14 GRANNY OF THE HILLS 

But through the years hast lived for self alone. 

( Looking up with hands clasped on breast after the word 
"self.") 
Hear Jesus saying, "Ye did it not to Me." 

(Head bowed on clasped hands.) 

Dear Jesus, help me from the heart to say, 

(Head bozved on folded arms on the word "help.") 
When duty calls to service day by day, 

{Head still bowed.) 
As i with loyal heart the call obey, 

(Looking up with an expression of deep purpose.) 
"My blessed Jesus, I do it unto Thee." 
(Head again bowed on folded arms.) 

(When the song ceases she remains with head bowed for a few moments, and 
then looking up. says slowly and thoughtfully.) Yes. "Inasmuch as ye have done 
it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." (After a 
moment's pause.) I can do it! (Rising with face illumined and stepping out from 
behind the table.) Yes, I can love to do it ! 

(Taking one slow step forward with hands outstretched) Oh, Granny! (An- 
other step.) Dear old Granny! (Another step with right hand raised as if listen- 
ing.) I hear the call of the hills. (Hands clasped on breast and no step taken) 
It is God's call. (Another step with hands outstretched.) I'm coming. 

(Where a curtain that will fall promptly is used, these stepf 
should be taken toward the front of the platform, but other- 
wise they should be taken toward the side 'where an easy exit 
can be made.)* 

*The writer wishes to acknowledge her indebtedness to Miss Bertha Hollinshead, of 
Dubuque, Iowa, tor her beautiful interpretation of this Part. 



INTERMISSION- 



PART III 

Scene: A group of college people watching a ball game. In the front row are 
seated Robert Baldridge, Granny, Miss Black, Esther Holmes, Rebecca 
Stewart, and Marian Hoover. Elizabeth McDonald should have a prom- 
inent place in the second row. As many others as the platform will 
accommodate can be grouped back of them. 

Robert Baldridge : Look, Granny ! Look! They've put Danny in the pitcher's 
box, to pitch the rest of the game. Now you will get. interested, won't you? 

Granny: Which one mought be Danny, anyways? I 'low they 'bout all 
look alike ter me, in them queer lookin'- clothes they be a-wearin'. 

Robert: That's Danny right in the middle of the diamond with the ball in 
his hands. Many a game has he won for the college by his fine pitching. It just 
seems that whatever Dan Woodhall does he does with all his might. 



PART III 15 

Granny: Ya-as, tint's Danny's way, all right. He war never a shiftless lad 
lak some in the mountains. When he war jes' a little fellar, ef he ever set out ter 
do anything, you could jes' 'bout 'low that he w'u'dn't never give up till he war 
plumb through. 

Marian Hoover: There comes a good player to the bat. Oh, girls! Do you 
remember the home run he made when they were here last year? 

Rebecca Stewart : Well, yes ; I should say we do ! Let's hope he won't do 
the same this year. Things have been looking pretty bad for our boys. My, but 
I'm glad they've changed pitchers. 

Marian : Was that his second strike? 

Rebecca: Yes, I'm sure it was. Wasn't it. Bob? 

Robert: Sure! 

Marian: Say! Danny's starting up things in his good oid style, isn't he? 
This game may turn out to be worth seeing after all. 

Rebecca: (Clapping her hands.) Three strikes! — Oh, good! He's out, alt 
right ! Hurrah for Danny ! 

Esther Holmes: (Slight pause while nczu baiter comes to the plate.) There, 
I wonder if that little fellow can get on to Danny's curves! Anybody would 
know he wasn't from the mountains. He doesn't look as if he could hit anything 
smaller than the side of a house, but you never can tell. Sometimes these little 
Lord Fauntleroy chaps surprise you. 

Robert : We'll soon see what he can do, Esther. 

Granny: I don't 'pear to sense jes' what they be a-doin'. I never seed any 
kind of a game lak this yere. Danny never l'arned this game ter hum. Mos' lak 
as not they c'u'dn't never play it up to the mountains anyways. I ca!kerlate there 
hain't eny level medder big enough ter give 'em room fer it. 

( . Ipplause.) 

Esther: There, mother's precious darling fanned out in a hurry. Two out 
and no one on bases. Oh, Danny Woodhall, you are the good boy, all right, all 
right. 

Granny: ( Turning toward Esther.) Danny war alius a good boy, so he war; 
and he hain't never growed away from it, lak some boys do. Some boys jes' 
'pear plumb ershamed ter be good, a'ter they git inter thar teens. Danny war 
alius good at work an' good at play. My, how he could run when he war a little 
fellar. Thar warn't no boy in Morgan's Cove could beat 'im. He run up and 
down the mountains jes' lak a deer, an' nobudy couldn't never ketch 'im. 
( Turning to Robert Baldridge, and during this speech of Granny's 
Robert should grozo increasingly impatient over being inter- 
rupted. He should graze so excited over the game as to make 
motions like the pitcher, and Granny, determined to be heard, 
should every naze and then shake him and say. "Listen, now 
listen!'' at which Robert should turn to her impatiently for 
a few moments and then again become absorbed in the game. 
Finally he should lean over, bury his face in his hands and 
shake his head as if ready to give up in despair.) 

This is powerful purty scenery ye've got 'round, yere, but hit hain't no pur- 
tier'n what I've seen ev'ry day o' my life from my cabin winders. The mountains 
up ter Morgan's Cove be all covered with pines, standin' up so tall an' straight 
an' strong, thet it meks me feel better jes' ter look at 'em. Why. it jes' 'pear* 
lak T c'u'dn't live 'thout them pines. They chirk me up wonderful, when I git 



16 GRANNY OF THE HILLS 

sort o' down-hearted an' good-fer-nothin'. It's jes' as if they sed, "Stand up 
straight, Granny, jes' lak we-uns do. Thar's no use breakin' in two carryin' yer 
burden. It's twict as heavy when ye lean over that a-way." An' I say, "Ya-as, I 
know." Ah ! them thar pines an' me hev been a-talkin' tergether ever sence I 
war a little gal. 

Robert: (His patience exhausted.) Oh. Granny, you just must watch the 
game. It's getting" so exciting. Everybody is watching Danny but you, and I 
should think you would care such a lot. 

Granny: Be Danny tryin' ter hit thet fellar with thet thar ball? 

Robert : No, Granny ; oh, no ! 

Granny: Wa-al, jes' look at thet little fellar over yonder, a-dodgin'. Thet 
one thet hes the bird-cage on his head. What be he a-wearin' thet thing fer, any- 
ways? Does he think he's a bird? 

Robert: Yes, I guess he does, Granny. 

Granny: Thet young fellar with the club in his hand looks as ef he would 
lak ter hit somebudy an awful lick. Jes' see 'im swing thet stick! I'm powerful 
glad Danny be n't any closer'n 'e is, fer he'd a'mos' git the head knocked offen 'im. 
Thar 'e goes ag'in ! He don't 'pear ter hit nuthin' so fur as I kin see; but then 
my eyes hain't much fer seein' eny more. 

Now look at Danny. What's he a-twistin' hisself all up lak thet fer, I'd lak ter 
know? It seems as ef 'e w'u'd know better'n ter do a thing lak thet, an' every- 
body a-watchin' 'im so. An' now he's doublin' hisself up jes' lak a jack-knife! 

Of all the (For the first time the crowd breaks into most enthusiastic 

■cheers, and Granny springs up in terror, daps her hands over her ears, and, turn- 
ing around, vtfatches them in amazement until the applause dies down so that she 
can he heard.) 

Granny: What's ever'body a-hollerin' so fer, I'd lak ter know? I don't see 
nothin' ter mek sech a fuss erbout ! 

Robert: Oh, Granny, Danny has just struck three men out ! 

Granny: (In great excitement and shaking her fist at Robert.) He hain't 
done no sech a thing! Hain't I bin a-watchin' 'im? He hain't struck a soul. Didn't 
you tell me he warn't tryin' ter hit them f ellars ? Do you s'pose I sent 'im 'way 
down yere ter school ter l'arn 'im ter fight? (Sitting down.) I reckon we-uns 
know thet game up in the mountains too well a'ready. 

Robert: (Patting her on the back.) Never mind, Granny; it's all in the game, 
<md everybody's shouting happy over what Danny has done. 

Granny: (Rising.) Wa-al, I reckon we mought as well be a-goin'. They 
'pear ter be done. They're all throwin' down thar clubs an' things, an' goin' home. 

Robert: (Taking her by the arm.) Oh, no, Granny, sit down. Our boys are 
coming to the bat now. Just wait and you'll see. Everything depends on this 
inning, and if you'll watch, we'll try to make you understand. See that boy pick- 
ing up the bat? He wants to hit the ball if he can. (Pause.) Oh, he has! "Just 
see it fly! (Slight pause, everybody watching intently, folloived by various ex- 
pressions of disappointment.) Yonder it goes right into the left fielder's hands. 
Oh, Granny, he's out, and if this keeps up, the game's lost. 

That boy coming to the bat now is the catcher — the one that wore the bird- 
cage. He's a good catcher, but not much good at the bat. I'm so afraid he'll fan 
out. It just makes me sick. (Pause, follozved by still greater expressions of dis- 
appointment.) He sent the ball right into the pitcher's hands like a six-year-old. 
(Burying his head in his hands.) Oh, I just know the game's lost! It's lost! 



PART III 17 

Granny: (Patting him on tlie head.) Don't tek on so, young fellar. I reckon 
it'll git found all right. Danny'll find it fer ye ef ye ask him. No critter couldn't 
never git away from him nohow. 

Robert: Here comes a good batter. There! See that ball, Granny? Now 
see him run for first base. If he makes it we'll begin to stand up straight like your 
pines once more. {Applause.) He made it all right, Granny. Now watch him. 
He wants to steal the next base, if he can. 

Granny: (Excitedly.) Steal it. did ye say! He ain't from the mountains 
then I'd hev ye know. 1 hain't never knowed no hilly-billy yet thet war mean 
enough ter steal. 

Robert: Oh, that's all right. Granny! Don't worry. There comes Jim 
Ferguson to the bat. Hurrah! He's all right. Keep your eyes on him. Granny, 
and see if he doesn't hit the ball good and hard. 

Granny: Wa-al, now, how's a body ter keep a-lookin' so many ways ter 
onct, I'd lak ter know? I lak ter watch thet thar pitchin' fellar down thar, what's 
a-playin' with the ball lak Danny done. He can't beat Danny at thet, kin 'e? 

Robert : Ah, see that grounder ! Nobody can ever catch that. They've 
fumbled it! Good! Good! See them run, Granny! See! See! (Applause.) 
They both made it! Two on bases! Oh, for a good batter uozv! 

Elizabeth: (Throwing up both hands in her exeitement.) It's Danny! It's 
Danny! It's Daniel Woodhall. Oh, Danny, Danny, you dear old boy you, play 
the game! (This speeeh should be almost drowned out by the enthusiasm of tin- 
rest of the crowd, and ai its close they should shout rah. rah, rah; rah, rah, rah; 
rah, rah, rail ; Danny!) 

Granny: (Excited at last.) Be thet Danny with the club now? Be it his 
turn ter hit thet thar ball ef 'e kin? I 'low sence I can't see ever'budy ter onct, 
thet I'll jes keep my eyes on Danny. Now ef you'll tell me jes as plain as yer kin 
jes' what Danny wants ter do, then (Straightening herself up complacently.) I'll 
watch ter see 'im do it. 

Robert: He wants to hit the ball so hard. Granny, that it will go clear over 
into the farthest corner of the field, where nobody can possibly catch it, and while 
it's going, he and the other boys will run clear around to where they started from 
'when they batted, and if they do that, we'll win the game. 

Granny : Wa-al, thar can't nobudy beat Danny a-runnin', an' yer say ef 'e 
gits clar aroun', then 'e beats? 

Robert : Yes, Granny. 

Granny: Wa-al, then, I hope he gits thar. lie hain't hit nuthin' yet, lies 'e? 

Robert : Wouldn't you think he would be so nervous, Granny, that he couldn't 
hit a thing? He knows just how much depends on this play, and it's his last 
game for the college. Oh, Granny, I do hope he'll bat that ball clear out of sight. 
Oh, there it goes! (All spring to their feet.) What a hit! See them run! Oh, 
don't let anybody catch it! Run, boys, run! 

( Wild excitement on the grand stand. The following speech will 
be drowned out by the noise, so more depends on the action 
than the words.) 

Granny: (Grasping Robert's arm and pointing excitedly toward the diamond.) 
Is thet Danny a-runnin', thet white streak thar? (Turning to the girls.) Give 
me one of them things ye've bin a-wavin' No, never mind, my apron'll do! 
(Flying to the edge of the platform, and ivaving her apron wildly.) Run, Danny, 
ru-u-u-n! Yer old granny's a-watchin' ye! Don't let 'em ketch ye! Nobody hain't 



18 GRANNY OF THE HILLS 

never done ketched ye yet! (Stamping her foot zi.'ith all her might.) Run, I tell 
ye! (Jumping up and down in her excitement.) Ye've got to git thar ! Ye've 
got to git thar! (Dropping her apron and wringing her hands.) Now, mind yer 

old granny, jes' this once more, thet's a good boy! Oh, Danny — Oh, Danny! 

(Waving both hands in the air, she turns toward 'the grand stand, shouting, "He 
got thar!" zvhich is the signal to the crowd that three runs have been made and 
the game zvon, and the wildest enthusiasm should prevail until Danny is rushed 
in on the shoulders of the ball team and dropped at Granny's feet, when he should 
be given nine rahs, with Robert as cheer leader, followed by the college yell.) 

"This is the school of great repute, 
Cumberland Collegiate Institute, 
C. C. I. C. C. I. 
Cumberland, Cumberland, 
Rah, rah, rah." 

Granny: (IV hen Danny is dropped at Granny's feet she should reach up to 
him with botli hands, saying excitedly) Ye got thar, Danny, boy! Ye got thar 
all right ! Your granny was a-watchin' ye. Nobudy c'u'dn't never ketch ye, 
Danny ! I told 'em so, I told 'em so ! 

(Danny should pat her on the shoulder, straighten her bonnet, 
smooth her hair, and then, drawing her arm through his, bow 
to the cheering crowd and the audience.) 

INTERMISSION 



PART IV 

Scene: The Commencement exercises of Cumberland Collegiate Institute. 
The President and members of the graduating class are seated on the 
platform. The President, Danny, Marian, Rebecca, and Robert at one 
end of the line, and Elizabeth, Rachel, and Esther at the other. A special 
number of music can be introduced here if desired. 

President: (Rising.) The valedictory will now be delivered by Mr. Daniel 
Stockton Woodhall, a faithful student through his entire college course, and to- 
night the first honor man of his class. (This valedictory can be shortened at will.) 

Danny: Honored President, Members of the Faculty and of the Board of 
Trustees of Cumberland Collegiate Institute, Classmates and Friends : The time 
has come when we must part. Let us hope that when we as a class leave these 
dear halls we may pass out into a life-work worthy of the training we have re- 
ceived here. 

We are grateful to those who have filled these years with wise instruction 
and sympathetic counsel. 

We are grateful to the Christian men and women who have made this school 
a possibility. They believe that the heritage of every American-born child should 
be a Christian education, and they have labored faithfully that the boys and girls of 
our mountain coves might be given their rightful chance. 

We are thankful for an ancestry of which we can be proud ; for an inheritance 
which impels us to make the most of every opportunity that comes our way; but, my 



PART IV 19 

<dear friends, pardon me for taking this opportunity to say, that as I stand before 
you to-night I owe more to my little white-haired mountaineer granny than to any 
other human agency. 

I should be less of a man than I hope I am, if I failed to share the honors 
of this day with the little woman who drove me out of that cabin home and away 
from the barren mountainside and the shiftless life of that community, to seek an 
education. 

Never have I forgotten the way she pressed the matter upon me by the story 
of ancestors long dead, who had done noble service for their country. She would 
have used force, if necessary, to drive me off to school. 

Many a time was I ready to give up and go back to that mountain cabin. 
When I opened my books, I could not study because the pages were blurred by a 
vision of Granny bending over a man's task to keep me in school; but over and over 
-he has said to me, "Don't give up, Danny. Would you break your granny's 
heart? I'll work for my boy, and never rest until he can come to me and say, 
'Here, Granny, is my 'ploma.' " It will soon be my pleasure to lay my diploma in 
her toil-worn hands. It belongs to her more than it does to me. The tasks I have 
performed to earn it have been as nothing compared to hers, and may this day, 
which closes my college career and begins my life of toil, usher in for her a 
blessed day of rest. 

But, my dear friends, the greatest reward for her self-sacrifice came years ago. 
It has been my privilege, from time to time, ever since I entered the Farm School, 
to carry back into that isolated mountain cove the message of the open Book. 
Narrow lives have been broadened until they have grasped the vision of the 
eternal. The monotony of their lives has been broken by the possibilities of 
Christian service. 

I have seen my grandmother's face illumined, as those rugged mountaineers 
have gathered in her cabin and opened their hour of religious service by singing 
their favorite hymn : 

"For the strength of the hills we bless thee, 
Our God, our fathers' God." 

Ah! the life lived far in those mountain recesses may be lonely and a life of 
unrequited toil, as they struggle to wrest a living from those barren hillsides; but, 
if they can only be brought in touch with that greatest product of our boasted 
civilization, a Christian education, and yet by their isolation, be kept free from the 
vices peculiar to the crowded centers of our population, God knows that no higher 
type of manhood and womanhood will be found anywhere than in our Southern 
Highlands. They have already furnished three Presidents of the United States, 
and they will furnish more in the years that are to come if they are only given a 
chance. ''The free-handed, open-hearted South, the fortunate, prosperous North — 
each must help according to its ability, until the glad day dawns when 'the mountain 
of the Lord's house shall be established in the top of the mountains.' 

"We cannot hope to see our beautiful Southland taking the position to which 
it is so royally entitled without the Christianized, educated support of these 
citizens of its rampart-. 

"The country need.-- them. They are not anarchists nor adventurers. They are 
not aliens from foreign lands, seeking our shores to escape from the poverty and 
hardships of the Old Country. They are Americans to the manner born, and they 
wait 'upon the mountains' for the 'feet of Him that bringeth good tidings.'" 



20 GRANNY OF THE HILLS 

My classmates, if we use our education simply for self-aggrandizement, we 
have failed to catch the meaning of this splendid institution of learning, which 
lias been reared on this mountaintop to minister to our peculiar needs. It has 
been established, not that we as individuals might have lives of greater ease and 
pleasure, but for the uplift of our people — "for a race who, by force of circum- 
stances, have lost their contact with the outside world, and for whom the clock of 
Christendom and civilization has stood still." We are to be the point of contact 
between our people and the outside world. We are to stand between them and 
those outside who would exploit them. 

We have been brought from mountain cabins, and the world's treasures of 
knowledge have been laid at- our feet. We must not snatch them up and hurry on 
into lives of selfishness and ease; we must go back, carrying them with us, and 
not until the problems of our people have been solved and their needs ministered 
unto, are we free from the obligation which rests upon us. 

Let us stand in our God-given place as straight and strong as our mountain 
pines, and with a purpose as immovable as the eternal hills. And now — 

"Farewell ! A word that must be, and hath been — 
A sound that makes us linger ; — yet, farewell !" 

(A second number of special music can be introduced here.) 

President: (Rising.) Members of the Class of 19 — (All rise.) In behalf of 
the Board of Trustees of Cumberland Collegiate Institute, it becomes my duty and 
my privilege to present to you these diplomas 

( The members of the class should turn facing the President and 
march in line past him. then across the stage and back to their 
first position. He should, be able to name each one as he presents 
the diploma. This ceremony can be elaborated if desired.) 

My dear young friends: The diplomas which I have placed in your hands 
speak of a course that has been completed ; of a task that has been done ; and yet, 
we call this your Commencement Day. May it be to each one of you the begin- 
ning of the splendid life of service for which your years of training have fitted 
you. The loving interest of those who have been your instructors during this 
formative period of your lives will follow you wherever you go. They will rejoice in 
your successes and grieve over your failures. The life of this institution has 
become wrapped up in your future ; your successes will be a part of its success ; 
it will fail in the performing of its noble mission if you fail to perform yours. 

Each of you will be true to your Alma Mater only when you have been true 
to your best self and to God. May God bless you and God speed you every one. 
Farewell. 

(The class remains standing and the President addresses the audience.) 

By special request the class will now sing the farewell song,* which was pre- 
pared for the class-night exercises. It is only fair to say that this song was 

written by the class poet, assisted by the class clown. 

( The verses of this song should be sung as a solo and acted out 
by tlie rest of the class standing bach of the soloist.) 



*See music on page 24. 



PART IV 21 

Now we must say to-night. 

Farewell to you, 
Our Alma Mater dear. 
And friends so true, 
Oh dry our tears for us 
{Hands over eyes and heads bent as if in sorrozv.) 

That fall like rain ; 
(Hands dropping, palm downward, ■with fingers in motion.) 
Parting from you now fills 
Our hearts with pain. 
(Both hands over heart.) 



You, our dear President, 
(Right hand extended toward President.) 

So good and wise, 
{Hand falls on word "zvise.") 

And every teacher here 
(Both hands extended on the zuord "teacher.") 

We shall surprise 
(Hands fall on last syllable of ''surprise." ) 
By what we will achieve, 
{Right hand raised on "achieve") 

What honors win, 
{Left hand raised on "win") 

When to uplift the world 
(All lean oi'cr and act as if lifting a heavy weight with both hands.) 

We all begin. 
{The world is apparently pitched high in the air on the last syllable 
of "begin.") 



Juniors and Sophomores. 
(Right hand held even with, the shoulders for Juniors and pointing 
up to indefinite heights for Sophomores.) 
Freshmen and Preps, 
(Low for Freshmen and a fool from the floor for Preps.) 
As you now follow on 
Track in our steps ; 
(Mark time for six beats.) 

Safely and certainly 
They point the way 
(Right hand raised.) 

Up to tin's mountainti »p, 
{Left hand raised.) 

Our crowning day. 
(Hands held at -various distances from the head, some turning side- 
zvays as if crozi\ied for room.) 



GRANNY* OF THE HILLS 

Oh, clear old college clays, 
(With deep feeling, all jesting put aside.) 

We would prolong 
Thy life so free from care 

By jest and song; 
Through all the years to lie. 

Thy joy shall dwell, 
Though we now say 1o thee 

Our last farewell. 

Chori's: (In which all join after each verse.} 
Now we our voices raise 
In one last song of praise. 
On this the day of days, 
Our grateful love to tell. 

First ending: 

Thanks for these huildings tall, 
Thanks for each dear old hall. 
Thanks that Dan hit that ball, 

Alma Mater, now we sing farewell. 

Second ending: 

Thanks for instruction true, 
Thanks for wise counsel too. 
Thanks for demerits few, 

Faithful teachers, now we sing farewell. 

Third ending: 

If you would like us lie. 
Show some ability, 
Grow some humility. 

Lower classmen, now we sing farewell. 

Fourth ending: 

You have to us been true, 
And we our pledge renew 
Of loyalty to you. 

Alma Mater, now we sing farewell. 

President: {Addressing the audience.) This closes the graduation exercises 
of the Class of 19 — of Cumberland Collegiate Institute. ( Turning to Danny and 
taking him by the hand.) Well, Daniel, you honored yourself to-night by honor- 
ing your grandmother. I must meet her, so that I can congratulate her as well 
as you. 

Marian Hoover: (Shaking hands ztHlh Danny.) Danny, 1 think your grand 
mother is just too dear for anything. 

Rebecca Stewart: (Shaking hands.) That's what we all think. Danny. 

Robert Baldridge : (Slapping Denny on the shoulder.) You made as big 
a hit to-night as yon did yesterday, old fellow. 



PART IV 23 

(Everybody shakes hands with everybody else, and all appear 
to be talking, but it should be done as quietly as possible, so 
that the following conversation can be heard:) 

Esther Holmes: Oh, Rachel, wasn't Danny's valedictory just splendid? 

Rachel McBride: Well, I should say so! And, Esther, why can't we brini; 
his grandmother up here and make him give her that diploma if he's so sure it 
belongs to her. 

Esther: Oh, good! Let's do it. Doesn't she look dear the way Miss Black 
lias fixed her up? 

Rachel: Come on. quick, before any one leaves. 

I They hurry away and return with Granny. ) 

ksxHEk: Here's your grandmother. Danny. We've brought her up to 
receive her diploma. 

(All talking (eases at once. Granny becomes the center of at- 
traction, and Danny starts toward her.) 

Elizabeth: (Impulsively.) Oh! you blessed little Granny! You certainly 
deserve that diploma. Have you ever forgiven me for stamping my foot and 
saying I hated you for sending Danny away to school ? 

Granny: Fergiv'n ye! Why, little Lizzie, T jes' loved ye fer bein' so upsot 
over losin' my Danny, an' (Turning to the others.) I'm a-thinkin' she mought 
tak on jes' 'bout as techerous if anybody tried to git him away from her now. 
(Applause and laughter.) 

Esther: That's right, Granny. Not one of us girls would dare try to do it, 
much as we might like to. 

Danny: (Presenting the President.) Granny, I want yon to meet President 
Matthews. My Grandmother, Mrs. Woodhall. 

Granny: (Shaking hands awkzuardly.) Howdy, sir! 

President: 1 am delighted to meet you, Mrs. Woodhall, ami I want to con- 
gratulate you upon having such a grandson as Daniel, with a good prospect of some 
da>' claiming our Elizabeth as your granddaughter. This has certainly been n 
happy day for you and for them. 

Esther Holmes: Now, Danny, hurry up with that presentation speech before 
we go. 

Elizabeth : Just wait one moment. Danny. (She removes her cap and 
gown, and with Esther's help puts them on Granny.) Now we are ready. 

Danny: (Slowly and impressively.) Now, my grandmother, Isabella Stock- 
ton Woodhall, here in the presence of my college friends, I present to you this 
diploma, which you have earned by years of faithful toil and constant self- 
sacrifice, and with it T bestow upon you the honorary degree of M.D.L.G.H., which 
being interpreted, means, My Dear Little Granny of the Hills. 

(If the one who impersonates Granny does not happen to he 
small, the word "old" can be substituted for "little.'' Granny 
takes the diploma, and smilingly bows to Danny, to the class, 
and then to the audience.) 



THE END. 



luftSLSF CONGRESS 



Alma Mater Farewell 




I. H. Meredith 



ma Ma-ter dear, And friends so true; 



j. Andante legato. JS . 

. Now we must say to-night, Fare-well to you, Our Al 

You, our dear Pres-i-dent, So good and wise, And ev-'ry teacher here, We shall sur-prise; 

Jun-iors and Sophomores, Freshmen and Preps. As you now fol-low on, Track in our steps; 
. Oh, dear old col-lege days, We would pro-long Thy life so free from care, By jest and6ong; 

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Oh, dry our tears for us, That fall like rain; Part-ing from you now fills Our hearts with pain. 
By what we will a-chieve, What honors win, When to up-lift the world We all be - gin. 
Safe - ly and certain- ly, They point the way Up to this moun-tain top, Our crown-ing day, 
Thro' all the years to be, Thy joy shall dwell. Tho' we now say to thee Our last fare -well. 




Now we our voi-ces raise In one last song of praise, On this, the day of days, 

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tell: Thanks for these build-ings tall, 

tell; Thanks for in - struc - tion true, 
tell; If you like us would be, 

tell; You have to us been true, 



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Thanks for wise 
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Thanks that Dan hit that ball, Al-ma Ma-ter, now we sing fare-well. 
Thanks for de-mer-its few, Faithful teachers, now we sing farewell. 
Grow some hu - mil - i - ty, Low-er classmen, now we sing farewell. 
Of loy - al - ty to you, Al-ma Ma-ter, now we sing farewell. 



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Music Copyright. 1914. by Tullar-Mereditb Co. International Copyright Secured. Used by per. 



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